


You're Having His Baby

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Insatiable (TV 2018)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Kind of ignores the end of season 1, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Pregnancy, metamours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Bob flits his gaze to Barnard before staring intently down at his coffee. He thinks about sleeping with Stella Rose, and how even when they weren’t careful, they never had any unwelcome surprises. Then, he thinks about Barnard and Stella Rose, and how all it took wasone nightfor Roxy to be conceived.





	You're Having His Baby

**Author's Note:**

> and i'm back with more insatiable fic. i had the thought of "oh god, if bob and barnard had a kid, they'd both be dad and they'd both be bob" so this fic happened. i'm still, deep in my heart, rooting for some good ol' v polyamory with metamours, and this indulges in that.
> 
> heads up for some flimsily researched info regarding pregnancies and iuds, plus i'm a little foggy on details in the theory, so if i get something wrong, just let it be.
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing!
> 
> enjoy!

Coralee comes in while Bob and Barnard are languidly making out on the bed; it’s Saturday, they have nowhere to be ‘til noon, and they’re all off to a lazy start. Bob looks at Coralee where she stands at the foot of the bed, shivering as Barnard continues to trace sleepy kisses along his neck.

“We have a problem,” Coralee says. Her voice is strong and unwavering but her lips are pursed in a way that means trouble. Not the fun kind, either.

Bob raises an eyebrow at her, and she cocks her hip. With a regretful sigh, he wriggles slightly away from Barnard. The other man takes a moment to suck a vicious hickey into the curve of Bob’s shoulder before relenting. Together, they sit up and face Coralee.

“What’s wrong?” Bob asks as he motions his wife to the bed. She doesn’t move. “Coralee?”

She exhales heavily. “I’m pregnant.”

 

An hour later finds them all three showered and dressed, if a bit haphazardly, and down in the kitchen splitting a pot of coffee. Brick and Magnolia are already gone for the day, so there’s no fear of being overheard when Barnard exclaims, not for the first time—

_“Pregnant?”_

Coralee sighs again. “Will you stop it?” She hisses.

Barnard’s mouth shuts with a click and he’s got the grace to look sheepish.

“I don’t know how this could’ve happened,” Coralee says. She braces her elbows on the marble countertop and dips her head down. “I’ve had an IUD since right after Brick was born, and it’s never been a problem. Not a single scare in nearly eighteen years.” She looks to Bob first, then Barnard, then back to Bob.

Silence expands after she speaks. Bob flits his gaze to Barnard before staring intently down at his coffee. He thinks about sleeping with Stella Rose, and how even when they weren’t careful, they never had any unwelcome surprises. Then, he thinks about Barnard and Stella Rose, and how all it took was _one night_ for Roxy to be conceived.

When Bob looks up again, he can see the same kind of thoughts flickering over his lovers’ faces. The three of them have been romping around in bed for the better part of six months now, so it’s hardly impossible that Barnard could’ve knocked Coralee up in the meantime.

“Well, shit,” Barnard says, and downs the rest of his mug.

 

They call off their plans for the day—it’s another investment meeting for Tampazzle, but Coralee tells them she’s feeling under the weather and manages to get the meeting postponed for a week out. Instead, even though they’re already dressed in mostly clean-pressed suits and dresses, they all return to their bedroom and fall to a heap on the covers.

Coralee rests between them, something of a rarity. While the sex is between the three of them more often than not, the more emotional side of things is still brokered with Bob as the middle man. Coralee is his wife, and Barnard is his boyfriend, and the two are—according to the internet—one another’s metamours. They kiss, they fuck, but seldom is Coralee the one in the middle in a moment as tender and fraught as this.

“Do we keep it?” She asks. Bob runs his fingers through her hair and Barnard is stroking her shoulder. “Is there even any other option?”

“Of course there is.” Bob says it immediately but bites his tongue on anything further. He looks at Barnard, whose expression is tight.

“He’s right,” Barnard says. “If you don’t want to keep it, we will figure out what needs to be done.”

Tears are welling in Coralee’s eyes and Bob bends to kiss her forehead gently. When he sits up again, Barnard is pressing soft kisses to the back of Coralee’s hand. His heart swells at the sight: the two people he loves most, loving each other, even if it’s only for a moment.

One of Coralee’s hands rests on her stomach, clenches into a fist. “What if I want to keep it?” She asks in a broken voice.

“Then we’ll figure out that, too.” Barnard says it first, beating Bob to it by mere seconds.

“We will,” Bob agrees. “Whatever it takes.”

 

 

 

The following Monday, Barnard kisses them both before he leaves for work, and Bob takes Coralee to her usual OBGYN. Thank god for small towns and wide-open appointment schedules; it’s easy enough to call Saturday afternoon and get Coralee an appointment, even if sitting in the waiting room is tense. When the nurse calls for Coralee and the two of them go back, it’s simultaneously a relief and ten times worse.

“Dr. Abernathy will be with you shortly,” the nurse says after she’s weighed Coralee and taken her blood pressure. The nurse gives them a smile before slipping out of the little examination room.

Coralee is gripping Bob’s hand like a lifeline. A few minutes pass with no sign of the doctor.

“How are we supposed to do this?” Coralee asks. “Three parents? That’s ridiculous.” She gives a wet laugh.

“We’ll do it just as we already have _twice_. Barnard’s a parent, too. This isn’t _new_ to any of us. So the kid’ll have two dads and a mom. Plenty of kids do!”

“The mom isn’t usually sleeping with both dads in those cases,” Coralee drawls back, but there’s a faint uptick at the corners of her mouth.

Dr. Abernathy comes in, all plump jolly cheer, and falls into the rolling chair tucked into one corner of the room. “So!” He exclaims. “Looks like you’re here today due to a fresh bun in the oven?”

Coralee nods. “Uh, yes. I still have my IUD, though, so…”

“Not to worry, we can set up an appointment to have it removed as soon as possible, to minimize risk to your pregnancy.” Dr. Abernathy launches into a spiel about pregnancy at Coralee’s age, things to watch for, what their plan will be to take precautions. Bob doesn’t zone out, exactly, but he catches the gist of things; this will be his third go-round the ferris wheel.

After, when Dr. Abernathy has given Coralee some packets on various pregnancy-related things, they sit in Bob’s car for a few long minutes. Coralee rubs her stomach insistently.

“I can’t believe it,” she breathes softly.

Bob closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. “We’ll need to tell Brick.”

“And Magnolia,” Coralee adds. She reaches out and grabs for Bob’s hand; he links their fingers and squeezes. “Oh god, we’re going to be a laughing stock.”

“No.” Bob brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles, just as Barnard had done a few days before. “We will _not_. You are the most beautiful, incredible woman in this whole pissant town. And Barnard… well, I’m pretty damn sure it’s impossible for anyone to hate him, even a little bit.”

Coralee blinks at him with watery eyes. “And you, we’ve got you.”

Bob shrugs one shoulder. “Of course, yeah.”

“We can’t do this without you, Bob.” Coralee lets go of his hand to reach for his cheek, instead. She turns in her seat and leans across the center console and forces him to look at her. “Me and Barnard are _nothing_ without you.”

Tears well up in Bob’s eyes for the umpteenth time in the past week. He nods, tongue heavy and useless in his mouth.

Coralee kisses him desperately before falling back into her seat. “Let’s go see Barnard.”

 

 

They tell the kids over dinner the following Friday. Bob and Barnard cook, and Coralee frets. She sets the table six different ways before Barnard threatens to put a padlock on the china cabinet to keep her from going a seventh time. After that, Coralee pours herself a generous helping of wine while the men’s backs are turned, but she doesn’t drink it.

Bob catches her staring sullenly into the red liquid when he turns around again. “Honey…”

“I haven’t drunk any,” she retorts. She sighs and pushes the glass across the countertop in Bob’s direction. “Drink it or dump it. It was just habit.” She runs a hand over her face.

Bob reaches out after wiping his hands on his apron and plucks the glass by its stem. He almost takes a sip, but something about the rich scent makes his stomach roil. He catches Barnard’s eye, and when the other man nods, Bob dumps the glass down the sink.

Cooking continues with stilted small talk, until the food is ready and the kids come downstairs, apprehensive at best.

“What’s this all about?” Magnolia asks the moment they’ve sat down, before any of them have even dished up any food.

“Magnolia!” Barnard chides.

“No, I wanna know, too.” Brick even pushes his plate away slightly. His stare is determined, and Bob would be proud of his son any other time but here and now, he just feels cornered.

“I’m pregnant,” Coralee says with the same abruptness she had almost a week prior. “It’s Bob’s.”

Magnolia and Brick both blink.

“Barnard’s,” Bob adds.

Magnolia ‘oh’s softly and Brick’s expression goes slack.

“Jesus Christ,” Brick mutters. His head tips back and he stares at the ceiling.

“How long?” Magnolia asks.

“Six weeks. Almost seven.” Coralee’s eyes are intently focused on her hands in her lap as she speaks. There’s a long, heavy silence—one might even call it a _pregnant pause_ , were the circumstances different. Then…

“That’s great!” Magnolia declares. “That’s exciting.”

Coralee looks up so quick Bob feels like _he_ gets whiplash. “What?”

“It’s great, isn’t it? It’s a beautiful thing.” Magnolia plows on with her words, cheer rising off every syllable and the smile on her face seems actually genuine. “I mean, it’s not… Not typical.” She looks over at Brick, who looks back at her in shock. “You’re planning on keeping it, right?” She asks, directing the question back at Coralee.

“Yes,” Coralee, Bob, and Barnard chorus.

“Then it’s great.” Magnolia reaches out and spears a piece of chicken on her fork. And that’s that.

They all dish up their plates and dig in; things are quiet and easy for a while until Brick exclaims, mouth full of mashed potatoes and asparagus.

“Who’s it gonna call dad? Will you _both_ be dad? You’re both already _Bob_.” Brick, for a moment, looks absolutely miserable. He looks truly distraught at the thought of the child having _two_ dads both named _Bob_ and, well.

Bob can’t help it. He _laughs_. For the first time in nearly a week, he laughs until the tears in his eyes are from mirth and not fear or panic or anything else. He bends over his plate and laughs hard enough that the table shakes. He can faintly hear Barnard joining him, then Coralee, and before long the kids are in on it too.

Bob sits back up straight eventually and dabs his eyes with his napkin. He lets out a shuddering breath topped off with a stray giggle.

“I needed that, Brick. Thank you.” Bob lets out a sigh. “And you’re right, Magnolia. It _is_ great.”

Magnolia smiles at him. Barnard nudges Bob gently before leaning over to give him a kiss, and then Coralee does the same. Bob knows there’s a long, difficult road ahead: navigating an unexpected pregnancy, one that’s just begging to go awry for any number of reasons, won’t possibly be easy. Not to mention the town, and how they’ll react to the three of them as parents—because there’s no way they’re going to keep the relationship under wraps.

But for now, for this dinner at the very least, everything feels like it’s slotting into place.


End file.
